


she'll break her own heart (and you know she'll break your heart too)

by itsactuallycorrine



Series: the stars came falling on our heads [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsactuallycorrine/pseuds/itsactuallycorrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2x08, Clarke makes Bellamy promise to never fall in love with her.</p><p>Bellamy wonders if it's too late.</p><p>Eventually Clarke figures this out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she'll break her own heart (and you know she'll break your heart too)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song "Patron Saint" by Regina Spektor
> 
> Obviously I don't own The 100 or these characters.
> 
> I wrote this fast and barely read it over, so please forgive any mistakes.

They're sitting together in a dark corner of the camp a few nights after Finn's death, sitting and not sleeping, because sleep is impossible for either of them.

And she's been quiet, far too quiet, but then again it's not like he has a damn clue what to say.

When she stirs, he glances her way and she looks at him, with her solemn eyes that tell him everything and nothing. "Promise me something."

It's not a question and Bellamy doesn't feel the need to answer; she's already well aware that anything in his power is hers. 

He nods, though, when she hesitates.

"Promise me that you won't fall in love with me."

And he can see it in her eyes, that she's expecting a glib response from the old Bellamy, the one who was a total ass half of the time, something sarcastic along the lines of,  _"Well, I'll try to restrain myself, princess, but you're just_ that _irresistible!"_

He can see the expectation and the dread and, above all else, the desperate sincerity in her face. 

"Clarke..." He hesitates, loath to say the wrong thing and hurt her further, but she looks away and swallows.

"First Wells, now Finn. Everyone who loves me ends up dead. And I can't-" Her voice breaks and Bellamy winces in sympathy, because he knows she - like him - hates showing weakness. "I can't lose you, too, Bellamy. I still need you."

"Hey," he says, voice pitched low, pausing long enough that she finally looks back his way, "I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, for the long haul." And she smiles a bit, just the tiniest upturn of her lips, but he can still see the doubt in her eyes. "If it means that much to you," he continues reluctantly, "then I promise not to fall in love with you."

As soon as he says it, guilt swamps him and a little voice in the back of his head warns  _too late too late too late._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the next few days, then weeks, every time that guilt rises, he manages to press it back down, put it away. Neatly, tidily, tucked into a box and pushed down deep in his mind. Along with the other feelings, the ones that cause the guilt.

Slowly, Clarke recovers. Rescuing the remaining 47 kids from Mount Weather helps, although the first time someone asks, "Where's Finn?" she crumbles and it's up to Bellamy to explain to the group what they'd missed.

Once the surviving members of the 100 are reunited, it becomes clear to Bellamy that they don't belong in Camp Jaha, where the adults are slowly adapting to life on the ground, but even slower to recognize the skill and expertise of a bunch of juvenile delinquents.

But he bides his time, waiting for Clarke to figure it out. She's had enough upheaval in her life that he doesn't want to be the cause of even more, to push her into something she's not ready for.

Finally she comes to him and says, "Let's go home."

Bellamy swears he's never heard a sweeter sound.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being back at the dropship is bittersweet. On one hand, Bellamy loves calling the shots and organizing teams and building something of their own. On the other, with so few of their people left, simple tasks that took days to complete before now take weeks. 

A few of the citizens of Camp Jaha had migrated with the kids, mostly parents of the 100 and a few twenty-somethings who were chafing under the Ark rules, and that helps. Some.

Bellamy and Clarke fall into their old patterns - he deals with security issues and she makes sure everyone is cared for and neither one makes a major decision without the other's input. 

For a couple of months, he's so worn out by the end of the day as they prepare for winter that he doesn't have time to worry about feelings or promises. It's all he can do to scrub the grime from his skin before falling into bed each night.

As the nights grow cooler and they start staying indoors more often, though, that's when the problems start coming. 

It's the little things at first - the shine of her hair in the firelight, the reluctant smile she has when Jasper makes some dumb joke, the furrow in her brow when she's thinking too much.

And sure, those things have always been there in his periphery, but now that they're not fighting to survive each day and can take a few moments to breathe, he's overwhelmed by his own awareness of her. 

It just gets worse from there.

There are times when it's just the two of them, talking quietly over some issue and she gets this really passionate look in her eyes, and tenderness tightens his entire chest and she'll smile a little and ask, "Why are you grinning at me?" And he'll have to look away in embarrassment, because in all honestly, he didn't even know he  _was_ smiling.

Or when they're teaming up to dress down some idiot who has hurt either himself or someone else, and she usually goes for a quietly disappointed tone and he goes for mildly threatening tone and it's a perfect combination because they have yet to fail to crack a kid into slinking away with their tail between their legs.

And occasionally, very occasionally, he'll get her to let her hair down and just enjoy the moment and as time goes by, she's happier for longer stretches of time before the guilt sets in and she tries to martyr herself.

It's usually as she's right on the precipice of that guilt, right at the peak of her happiness, that Bellamy lets himself think,  _Maybe she's changed her mind, maybe she'll let me love her now, maybe it'll be okay._

But the guilt, the pain, the memories, always come and she always quietly excuses herself and he always has to spend at least a day trying to gently cheer her up to get her back to even a semblance of herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Octavia is not shy about telling him how stupid she thinks the entire situation is. "Is it going to hurt her any less," she asks, her voice an interesting blend of adult reasoning and little sister outrage on his behalf, "if she never knows and something happens to you? Why not just give in to it and take what happiness you can in the time you have?"

Bellamy understands her reasoning, but stubbornly replies, "I made a promise," each and every time. 

As winter finally melts into spring, she finally stops complaining to him about it, and he breathes a sigh of relief that he's finally managed to get through her stubborn skull. 

It isn't until later, as he sees her talking to an increasingly stiff and withdrawn Clarke, that Bellamy remembers that underestimating his sister's stubbornness is never a wise move.

He walks up just in time to hear Octavia say, "... and it's pointless! This stupid planet has already taken enough and if something's going to happen, it's going to happen regardless. My brother deserves happiness and so do you, Clarke and he loves yo-"

"Octavia!" he bites out, voice cracking like a whip. "That's enough."

His sister throws her hands up and mutters something along the lines of, "You deserve each other," as she stomps off.

Clarke won't meet his gaze, even when he takes her by the arm. Her slow and gentle retreat from his touch tells him that the damage has been done. 

"Clarke," he murmurs lowly, stung by her tacit rejection, "it's just O, running her mouth. Don't let it get to you."

She closes her eyes then, but he can still see the pain on her face, in the furrow between her brows, the pinched corners of her mouth, the way her lashes flutter the tiniest bit against her cheeks. Finally she blinks up at him, blue eyes unreadable but searching his expression. Whatever she sees in his face makes her nod, once, resolute. 

"Are we okay?" he asks, holding his breath.

"We will be," she says cryptically, turning away from him. "I'll take care of everything."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning he wakes to find out that Clarke has taken a two-person guard with her and intends to visit the Grounder commander Lexa. 

He verbally tears a strip off Miller for not coming to him immediately when Clarke asked him to arrange the whole thing. 

Miller shifts on his feet a little, looking away. "She asked me not to," he finally answers for himself. "You know how it is when Clarke asks for something: she rarely does so it's tough to disappoint her."

Bellamy is more than aware of that and of the disappointment she must feel in his inability to keep his own promise. And he knows, deep down, that he's taking his own disappointment out on Miller, so he claps the kid on the shoulder and mumbles a halfhearted apology before shuffling off to oversee the day's activities.

For the rest of the day, he ignores the trip of his pulse every time the gate is opened. He puts Clarke out of his mind and focuses on his people, on their home, and tries to suppress the dread curdling in his stomach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarke returns two days later with her guards, Lexa, and two of Lexa's soldiers. 

Joy at her return and anxiety over what happens next war within Bellamy. He catches Clarke's eye and tries out a small smile, but she only blinks in his direction, then looks to Lexa, swallowing hard, and quietly saying something.

Whatever she's asked of the commander, she receives a small assent in the form of a raised chin, and Clarke waves over Miller, introduces him to the Grounders and gives him directions. As they walk in the opposite direction, Clarke finally turns back to him and walks forward.

A small part of him is pushing him to meet her halfway, but his feet stay rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear in a way he's only felt a few times before in his life.

"Welcome back," he manages as she pulls abreast of him, but she hardly slows.

"Come with me," she orders, although her tone is nearly pleading, as though she's begging him not to make this any harder than it has to be.

And because it's her and it's him and he is helpless to resist her smallest wish, he follows at her heels as she walks into the dropship and immediately dismisses the few kids that were hanging around in there.

When they're alone, he can't look away from her while she seems to be content to look at anything other than him.

Finally he breaks. "What the hell is going on?" he asks, voice rougher than he'd like.

She glances his way out of the corner of her eye and inhales deeply, squaring her shoulders and finally turning to meet him head-on as she breathes out. "I met with Lexa to discuss a way to further our truce and build more common ground between her people and ours."

All the hair on the back of his neck stands up, but Bellamy nods. "And this means...?"

"Inter-marriage," she says, quickly like ripping off a bandage. "We arrange for a few of our people to marry hers."

Bellamy stares at her in shock. "Arranged marriages?! Clarke, that's barbaric! We don't need to do that. We need to come up with a way to politely decline her offer."

"Bellamy." Her voice is low, but steady, resolute. "This wasn't Lexa's idea; it was mine."

He stares at her in shock for a beat, then laughs incredulously. "So we, what, just send some poor kids off to live with the Grounders, welcome some of them into our camp? How could you do that to them?" He paces a few steps away, pushing his hands through his hair. "And how do we pick? Do they at least get some choice in the matter, like will there be a courting period or something?"

When she remains quiet, he glances her way, only to see the slightest sheen of tears on her eyes, which does little to hide the guilt. "You've already chosen the sacrificial lambs, have you?" he asks, voice quiet with anger. "Well, who's it to be? Who's gonna be sent away from their home and..."

It all falls into place, in one terrible and blinding flash, and he wants to be sick, he wants to punch something, he wants to curl into a ball and scream. Instead he just scrubs at his face, holding the heels of his palms against his eyes, as if he could block out the truth. "God, Clarke," he manages, voice breaking, but there's no room for more humiliation.

At least that's what he thinks until he feels the tell-tale prick of tears at the corner of his eyes. "This is what you meant?" he wants to scream, but it comes out as a croak. "This is you making it 'okay'? Trading me away to the fucking Grounders?!"

When she remains silent, he whirls on her, but holds himself in place. It doesn't stop her from flinching and Bellamy hates that that still hurts him, even when he's furious at her. 

"So that's it? That's the end? You're willing to take on leadership of this entire camp, by yourself, to send me away to a marriage I don't want, so you, what? Won't hurt as much if I die?" His voice is now echoing off the metal sides of the dropship, booming back at him, and he flexes his jaw, knowing that the entire camp is hearing this. 

"You made me a promise!" she shouts back, eyes flashing, finally taking a step forward. "I trusted you to keep your word and you broke my trust and I can't do it, Bellamy! Not again, not ever again."

"It was a stupid promise to ask me to make and guess what, princess? I was already lying when I made it, it just took you this long to figure out. And guess what else? I'm not dead yet!" He takes a deep breath. "You said you needed me, but if you really needed me, Clarke, you'd let me stay." He steps forward, close enough to touch her, and lifts a hand to her chin, resting his thumb in the dimple there, eyes fixated on the way her ivory skin contrasted with his dark hand. "Let me stay, Clarke. You and I, we belong together, as partners, as leaders of this camp, even if we can't ever be anything more."

"Bellamy," she whispers and shuts her eyes, bringing a hand up to wrap around his wrist, pulling his hand free of her face, but not dropping it. "It's already done. Lexa wants you to be her consort and has come to collect you herself. It's a great honor." She blinks up at him, refusing to let any of the tears spill over. "If you ever cared about this camp, about -"  _me_ , he hears the unspoken word in her choked sob, " - you'll honor this deal."

And because it's her and because it's him, he drops his hand, nods, and walks away, pausing just before the doorway to wipe his eyes clear. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lexa provides him with a mount as soon as they walk through the gate the next morning and he fumbles his way through rigging the pack holding his meager belongings to the horse. 

Once he's wasted enough time on that, he turns back to face the gate, barely steady on his feet before O is grabbing him in a tight, desperate hold. 

"I'm so sorry," she whispers into his shoulder and he can feel the tears running down her cheeks, staining his jacket. "I just wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to have what Lincoln and I have."

"I know," he comforts her, returning her hug just as tightly, turning his head into her dark hair. Above and beyond the pain of losing his home, losing Clarke, is the separation from Octavia. Lincoln, having betrayed his people, has already been warned he would not be welcome back, and so any visitation will have to be Bellamy coming to them.

He pulls back slightly, resting his hands on her shoulders and leaning his forehead against hers. "I love you, O," he whispers, not wanting to share this moment with the group that has gathered.

She smiles sadly as she chokes out, "I love you, big brother."

He forces himself to release her and turns to Lincoln with a look that speaks volumes about the kind of treatment his sister deserves. Lincoln nods his assent and immediately hugs Octavia, already doing his part to comfort her.

Bellamy turns to Miller next and claps him on the shoulder. "Remember everything I taught you," he says gravely. "Don't put up with anyone's shit and you help carry half the burden around the camp."

"Will do, boss," Miller says with a nervous smile, making Bellamy laugh a bit.

"You're the boss now, Nathan," he says lightly. "Don't fuck it up."

When Miller steps back, Bellamy has no choice left but to turn to Clarke and he finds himself frustrated that she's retreated behind a stony mantle of leadership. 

She steps forward and he can tell immediately that the smile she's wearing is brittle enough that a strong wind would break it, but he finds himself reciprocating it nonetheless.

"Bellamy," she says quietly, then she falters and her smile appears to turn a little more genuine. "You did good here."

A laugh catches on the lump in his throat and he clears it away, glancing across the horizon before he turns back to her. "They're your problem now, Princess," he says, proud of how steady his voice is. 

She nods gently, then reaches forward and grabs his hand. "Take care of yourself." It's a simple platitude, but he can hear the sincerity behind it, knows that she truly cares about his well-being. 

He looks down at her hand in his and turns his arm so her hand is on top, palm to palm, and wonders if this is it, if this is the last time they'll touch, they'll talk as friends, as equals. He extends his fingers to her wrist, gently stroking the soft skin there and sees her lashes flutter a bit, just enough to let him know that she's not unaffected.

He doesn't know whether it's a comfort or not.

"Clarke," he begins and there's so much he wants to say, so much he can never say, everything unspoken hanging heavy in his heart, but he settles on, "you take care of yourself, too."

And with that, he drops her hand and turns to Lexa, towards his new life.

Figuring out the mechanics of riding a horse takes him a moment and he hears them close the gate, ending that chapter of his life, and the sound breaks his heart.

Lexa's guard is quiet as they ride away, out of respect for Bellamy's pain or just out of habit, he doesn't know.

He doesn't realize he's waiting for the gate to open, for Clarke to come running out, telling them all she's made a mistake, until they're out of sight of the camp and he releases a broken breath when it doesn't happen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bellamy knows that Lexa is taking pity on him and that her group alone could probably have made the ride in half a day's time.

The sun is close to setting as they rein up just before the gates and Lexa turns to him, expression grave.

"You can have a good life here, Bellamy," she promises. "As long as you are faithful and obedient, we will have a good marriage."

"Lexa," he says quietly, not wanting to start his new life off with lies, "you should know, part of the reason Clarke chose me-"

She interrupts him with a sharp wave of her hand. "We do not need to speak of it." She glances away and when she turns back to him, he can see the same pain within him reflected in her eyes. "Clarke was very honest when she came to me, and you are not the only one who has suffered such a pain in the past. But it is the past, is it not?"

Bellamy closes his eyes and thinks of golden hair and flashing blue eyes and her husky voice confessing that she needs him. He takes a moment, lets his mind tenderly touch on each memory, every minute that they spent together, and then further to every moment they'll never share - first kiss, first time making love, first confession of love, marriage, children, making the camp a village, growing old together, dying side by side, as they did everything in life.

It could have been a good life, a perfect life, not without its hardships, but perfect for them.

If only she'd wanted it.

He takes a beat, takes a breath, opens his eyes to look at Lexa and says, "Yes, it's in the past."

And Bellamy Blake walks into this new future.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](http://itsactuallycorrine.tumblr.com)


End file.
